The Insane One
by YanksLuver
Summary: After Vaughn's eccentric Aunt Trish follows him to a meeting with Syd, she and Sydney are forced to share a safehouse until the CIA can be sure the breech hasn't compromised her cover. This leads to some insight for Sydney into Vaughn's feelings for her.


Title: The Insane One  
  
Author: Steph (ILUVNYYANK@aol.com)  
  
Category: Comedy/Romance  
  
POV: Sydney  
  
Spoilers: "Spirit", "Page 47".  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Archive: Sure, just let me know where.  
  
Disclaimer: Alias and its characters do not belong to me. I do this out of  
  
a love for the show and no infringement is intended.  
  
Summary: After Vaughn's eccentric Aunt Trish follows him to a meeting with Syd, she and Sydney are forced to share a safehouse until the CIA can be sure the breech hasn't compromised her cover. The time spent together leads to some revealing insight for Sydney into Vaughn's feelings for her.  
  
  
  
* * * The Insane One: Part 1/1 * * *  
  
  
  
I pace back and forth in the warehouse, pausing every so often to impatiently tap my foot.  
  
Where is he? He's almost never late.  
  
I hear the soft click of heels against concrete and I smile as I see him round the corner. He doesn't return my smile and it's then that I realize he's sweating. I open my mouth to ask what's wrong, but my eyes fall on what is behind him before I am able to say a word.  
  
Trailing after him is a woman about sixty-five years old (5' 4", 150 pounds maybe), who is desperately trying to hide her age. She has short, curly strawberry hair and her face is caked in makeup: blue eye shadow, heavy green eyeliner, dark rose blush and hot pink lipstick. Her clothing reveals the same desperate, misguided attempt: a leopard print shirt with a gold sequined tank top beneath it, black leggings and three inch heels to top it all off.  
  
She's definitely someone who gets your attention.  
  
I force my eyes off of the woman, who has now moved to the corner at Vaughn's request. I focus my eyes on him and ask in a harsh whisper, "Who is SHE?"  
  
He takes a step forward and leans his head towards me, his voice low, "That's my Aunt Trish."  
  
My eyes widen at that statement and I glance back at her. Vaughn's mentioned her before. Vaughn said she was the insane one in the family, I just never imagined her to be quite like this.  
  
I look back at him, my tone noticeably more irritated. "And you brought her because?"  
  
He sighs, not appreciating my tone. "I didn't bring her. She showed up on my doorstep unexpectedly and then followed me here."  
  
"She followed you?"  
  
"Yes. I specifically asked her to stay at my apartment until I got back, but she wouldn't listen. She's incredibly stubborn."  
  
I shake my head in annoyance. "So you just let her follow you?"  
  
"No, I didn't *let* her follow me. I tried to lose her for a half an hour until I finally gave up.  
  
"Let me get this straight: You are a CIA agent, trained in the art of losing a tail, and you couldn't shake a Senior Citizen?"  
  
His tone turns slightly defensive, "Hey, she is no ordinary Senior Citizen. Trust me on that one. I tried every trick I know and a few I made up along the way, but none of them worked. The lady's good. So good, in fact, that I'm seriously considering recruiting her."  
  
I narrow my eyes at him, "You're making a joke? This is a serious problem and you're making a joke?"  
  
He shrugs his shoulders, "There's nothing we can do about it now, Sydney."  
  
"Vaughn, she is endangering her life, not to mention ours. Plus, civilians are not supposed to know about our relationship."  
  
"You don't think I know that? I'm telling you I had no choice."  
  
"You didn't have to lead her here!"  
  
He groans and rubs at his forehead, "I knew we had an important meeting and I didn't want to cancel on you. I guess I just wasn't thinking." He pauses and then adds, "I'm sorry, okay? Can we just try to make the best of it?"  
  
I cross my arms over my chest and speak while eyeing her, "You're going to have to tell Devlin about this. He's going to have to decide if she needs protection now."  
  
"Is it possible for you two not to talk like I'm not here?" a high- pitched voice from the corner asks.  
  
We both whip our heads in the direction of Aunt Trish. She smiles at us and blows a pink bubble. "I got good hearing, so you can stop talking about me as if I'm not here. I'm so sorry to have thrown a wrench in your plans, I can see I've interrupted something important. I just wanted to spend some time with my Mikey Mouse."  
  
I can hear him sigh at the nickname and I see his eyes squeeze shut out of the corner of my eye. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.  
  
Aunt Trish walks over to us and slowly looks me over, her eyes scanning my body from head to toe. She grins and then looks over at Vaughn. "So, what did I interrupt? Some steamy, secret affair? A little midday rendezvous? 'Cause, if so, then just say the word and I am gone."  
  
We both shake our heads, our eyes darting uncomfortably to the floor. That's not to say the scenario doesn't sound appealing to me...It's not like THAT hasn't crossed my mind before.  
  
"No, that's not it at all," I say, as I force my voice not to betray me.  
  
She raises her pencil-thin eyebrows and looks from me to Vaughn three times, before smiling. "Are you sure?"  
  
His brow furrows and my eyes narrow. I nod, "Uh, yes, we're sure."  
  
She shrugs her shoulders, "If you say so, but I was sure I saw something between you two. I'm usually very good at these types of things. It's a gift."  
  
My eyes briefly meet Vaughn's, before we both turn away and look back at Aunt Trish.  
  
We stand there in silence for a few minutes, until I look at Vaughn and raise my eyebrows in a silent plea to tell her what's going on.  
  
He sighs, "Aunt Trish, I am Sydney's CIA handler. She is a double agent who works for an enemy of our government. We have these secret meetings to protect her cover. Now that you know the truth, I'm afraid we may have to take precautions to protect you."  
  
Her smile widens, "Oh, what fun! My Mikey Mouse is a real-life James Bond!"  
  
Vaughn shakes his head, his face reddening, "Not exactly, Aunt Trish."  
  
She turns to me. "So, you get to do all sorts of fun things, like kick people and dress in funny clothes, right?"  
  
"There's a little more to it than that."  
  
She ignores me and goes on, "Hey, I've got the funny clothes part down, now all I need to do is find some ass and kick it!"  
  
Vaughn's eyebrows raise and he holds his hands up to her, "I don't think that's such a great idea, considering you just had your hip replaced."  
  
She waves a dismissive hand, "Ah, who cares. I still got one good hip and that's all I need."  
  
I stare at her, trying to picture such a thing. Not pretty.  
  
I turn to Vaughn, "Call Devlin."  
  
He nods and takes out his cell phone, moving to a corner of the cage.  
  
Aunt Trish and I just stand there in silence, looking rather uncomfortable, until she speaks. "A skinny thing like you kicks ass, huh? Imagine that."  
  
I offer her a close-mouthed smile, before coming up with something to say, "So, Vaughn mentioned that you do readings and communicate with people who have passed. What's that like?"  
  
She offers me a toothy grin, "Oh that. Yeah, that's just kind of a show I put on for my nephew and our family members. When he was little, I freaked him out when I said something about seeing a ghost. I didn't see a ghost, I just thought it would be funny. But, he believed me, so I figured I'd keep it going. I told him I read palms and talk to all kinds of dead people, do some crop circle worshipping. The whole family believed me, which made it so much fun. Our family is filled with a bunch of bores, so I was happy to take the title of 'The Insane One'. Makes for much more interesting family gatherings."  
  
I smile at her in amazement and simply shake my head. I then turn and look at Vaughn. He clicks his cell phone shut and walks over to us.  
  
"Devlin wants to put her in a safehouse for a day or so. He wasn't happy with me, but he said he doesn't think she should be a problem. He has to check her out, standard procedure, and then he wants to make sure that there's nothing SD-6 will be able to trace from her to you. After that, as long as she swears," he pauses to accentuate the word and offer her a warning glare,"to never mention this to anyone, she should be fine."  
  
Aunt Trish grins and pats Vaughn on the back. "Oh, I can keep a secret with the best of them. I never told you that I was the one who ran over your bike when you were nine, now did I?"  
  
Vaughn and I exchange worried glances. He then turns to me, his expression a bit tense. "There's one more thing. Devlin wants you to stay with Aunt Trish until this is all over. He wants to be sure that your cover hasn't been compromised and that SD-6 isn't suspicious of anything. It's just a precaution."  
  
My mouth drops open and I shake my head vigorously. "No way, Vaughn. Call D-..."  
  
He cuts me off with a sharp shake of his head, "There's no room for discussion, Sydney. Orders from Devlin. You don't have a choice."  
  
I squeeze my eyes shut and rub a hand across my forehead. It's then that I feel an arm tighten around my shoulders. I force one eye open and look at Aunt Trish, who has me in a death-grip.  
  
She smiles excitedly, "Oh, this is going to be so much fun! We have to hide out, just like in the movies. I haven't experienced this much intrigue since 'Diagnosis Murder' went off the air! Let's go, Roomie!""  
  
I throw an ire-filled glare at Vaughn, who simply shrugs and is unable to hide the amused smile playing across his lips.  
  
* * * *  
  
Vaughn opens the door to the cabin and allows both of us to pass by him. We enter the cabin, our eyes moving to survey it. It's comfortable enough. The living room has wood paneled walls, a fireplace and two overstuffed plaid couches. A small kitchen off of the living room contains all that is necessary to cook a meal and nothing more.  
  
"It's nice," I say to Vaughn.  
  
"This place is horrible!" Aunt Trish comments, her lips curling in disgust. "So blah. No pizzazz." She turns to Vaughn and shakes her head, "I can't stay here."  
  
He smiles politely at her, "You don't have a choice, Aunt Trish. It'll only be for the day, maybe less."  
  
She shakes her head furiously, "No, you don't understand. The feeling isn't right in this room. The aura surrounding us is off. I won't be able to talk to any of my friends today."  
  
Aunt Trish offers me a discreet wink, as I notice Vaughn roll his eyes at her.  
  
"I guess you'll just have to deal with that, Aunt Trish. Try talking to Sydney. She's right here and, most importantly, still alive."  
  
Aunt Trish feigns disappointment and sighs in an exaggerated fashion. She then mutters, "Fine", under her breath.  
  
She leaves the living room and goes to explore the rest of the small cabin.  
  
I turn to Vaughn, "She's certainly a character."  
  
He nods and grins, "Yeah, always has been. When I was seven, she volunteered to be the den mother for my Boy Scout troop. The first day she replaced our little yellow neck kerchief things with 'more fashionable' leopard print scarves and had us engage in seance. Needless to say, she didn't make it to a second day."  
  
I laugh, as I try to picture little Vaughn wearing a leopard print scarf.  
  
Just then, Aunt Trish sweeps back into the living room in a most dramatic fashion and comes to stand beside us. "The bathroom has a shower, Mikey. You know I only take baths."  
  
Vaughn pats her gently on the shoulder, "You're not going to be here long, Aunt Trish. Just try to make the best of it."  
  
She hesitantly bobs her head in agreement. He smiles at me and nods his head in the direction of the door, "I've got to go. I'll be back when I know you're both in the clear."  
  
"Okay, thanks," I reply with a smile and then watch as he leaves. My eyes remain on the door a tad longer than necessary.  
  
"Hey, Spy Girl, what do you want to do first?"  
  
I spin around and face her, "How does lunch sound?"  
  
* * * *  
  
I watch as Aunt Trish opens up two cans of Campbell's Tomato Soup and pours them into a pot. I suggested we make homemade soup, but she said that only eighty year old grannies with gray hair and cataracts make homemade soup.  
  
She turns to me and smiles. "You know, that nephew of mine is a good boy, always has been. It was hard on him after my brother died, but he turned into a good man. I tried to be there as much as I could for him. Did he tell you how I was the den mother for his Boy Scout troop?"  
  
I nod, as I try hide my smile.  
  
"Yup, that was fun. Oh and did he tell you about the ballet class I signed him up for when he was ten?"  
  
I shake my head, as I try to picture little Vaughn in tights and a tutu. I have to bite my lip to suppress a laugh.  
  
"He sure was light on his feet, a total natural. His uptight teacher kicked him out though after I tried to 'jazz' his recital performance up a little. I still don't see anything wrong with gyrating hips. I think the teacher was just a jealous that she didn't think of it first."  
  
I raise my eyebrows at the new images filling my mind. They are both disturbing and oddly arousing. I shake my head to clear my mind.  
  
We lapse into silence after that, until Aunt Trish breaks it.  
  
"So," she says, while stirring the soup, "you like my nephew."  
  
She says this as more of a statement than a question, which is strangely unsettling to me.  
  
I nod, "Oh, yes, of course. He's a great coworker."  
  
She laughs and turns towards me, while pointing an accusatory ladle at me. "You know what I meant, hon. You *like* my nephew."  
  
I can feel my face redden under her stare and I have to force my eyes away. I decide to focus on the countertop. "Uh, yes, he's a good man. We have a great working relationship and have become very good friends. Well, friends as defined within the constraints of our working relationship."  
  
I meekly raise my eyes back up to meet hers. She shakes her head at me and smiles, "That's an answer, I suppose. An evasive answer, given by someone who is trying to hide her true feelings."  
  
I can feel my face burn and I have to avert my eyes once more. The woman's known me for a total of five minutes and she figured that out? Either I am incredibly transparent or she has some weird mind-reading power.  
  
She walks over to me and rests her elbows on the countertop. "He likes you, too. In fact, I'm willing to bet he likes you *a lot*."  
  
I don't know what to say to that.  
  
I stammer, "Um...we, uh, are just friends and coworkers. Our job won't allow for more."  
  
She snorts and waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, please, don't let a silly thing like a job stand in the way of something that could be great. I did that when I was your age and learned the hard way. Who knew Carl would die in a freak ping-pong accident? I should have gone for it when I had the chance."  
  
After briefly pondering how someone can die while playing ping- pong, I form a response. "The circumstances are different for us. It's impossible."  
  
Her lips curl into a snarl, "I hate that word. History is filled with things that were once thought impossible. Nothing's truly impossible. You just have to want it enough."  
  
I smile slightly. This lady's a piece of work.  
  
"I'm sorry, I misspoke. It's not impossible, it's just something that would be very complicated and could have serious consequences for us both."  
  
She raises an eyebrow up at me, "So you're saying that if things were different you'd like to be with my nephew?"  
  
My mouth drops open slightly at the straightforward question. Cuts right to the chase doesn't she?  
  
I search for something to say. The search yields rather lame results. "You don't mince words, do you?"  
  
She shrugs, "I'm too old to mince words. I'm not about to spend my golden years beating around the bush."  
  
I smile slightly and swallow hard. How am I supposed to answer that question?  
  
I stumble over my words, "I, uh, guess if things were different then that would be an avenue that might be interesting to investigate."  
  
She chuckles. "You certainly know how to not give an answer, don't ya?"  
  
I offer her a close-lipped smile and a slight nod. She walks back over to her soup and begins to stir it again. "So, my nephew is pretty shy around the ladies, in case you haven't noticed. Has he done anything to show interest in you?"  
  
My eyes widen at the question. This lady sure has guts. I'm so stunned by the bluntness of the question that I don't even realize my mouth forming the words.  
  
"He gave me a Christmas gift."  
  
Uh oh. That was stupid. That was really stupid.  
  
She twirls around to face me, her eyes twinkling in delight.  
  
"A Christmas gift, huh? What was it?"  
  
I'm sure I'll regret this, but..."A silver antique picture frame. He saw it in an antique shop and bought it for me."  
  
Both of her eyebrows arch in surprise at my answer. The effect borders on creepy.  
  
She allows a slow smile to spread across her lips. "Oh, hon, he didn't get that at an antique shop. That's a family heirloom. Been in the family for four generations."  
  
This time, my eyes widen *and* my mouth drops open.  
  
I shake my head, "No, you're mistaken. It must be a different frame."  
  
She raises her brow. "It has an etched floral design on it, roses in each corner."  
  
I am speechless and all I can do is nod my head. I can't believe Vaughn would give me such a priceless heirloom.  
  
She smiles at me, "That's what I thought. Would you like to hear the story of its history? I can tell it almost word for word, just like it was told to me."  
  
I nod again, still too stunned to form any words.  
  
"Mikey's great-grandfather, James, who was my grandfather, bought that frame when he was eighteen years old. He bought it for his girlfriend, Rachel. He intended to give it to her as an engagement present. Rachel didn't really like jewelry much and James knew that a frame would be a much more treasured gift. He thought they could put there wedding photo in it. However, James' parents were against the union from the start. Rachel was from a lower class family and James was from an upper class family. His parents wanted him to marry within his social class. They forbade James from even asking Rachel to marry him. James loved and respected his parents and did not have the confidence to go against them. He broke up with Rachel and, six months later, married my grandmother, Rose. It was a marriage arranged by his parents, but James came to love Rose and they spent forty happy years together. He, however, never forget his true love, Rachel, and kept the frame hidden in a drawer in his bureau. When his son, Peter, my father, turned eighteen, he secretly gave him the frame as a gift. He didn't want Rose to know about it because he wasn't sure how she'd feel. He told his son to give the frame to his true love as a token of his intent to marry her someday. James told his son that he should not let anything stand in the way of marrying his true love, as he had. So began the tradition of passing on the frame to the eldest son when he turned eighteen years old. The frame is usually passed on to the woman before an engagement and is a sign of the true feelings and intentions of the man."  
  
Aunt Trish stops talking and I simply stare at her, the beauty and poignance of the story blowing me away.  
  
She waves a hand in front of my face. "Snap out of it, hon."  
  
I smile in embarrassment, a blush creeping into my cheeks. "Sorry."  
  
She grins and shrugs her shoulders, "That's okay, I understand. It's not everyday you find out that a man loves you."  
  
The words hit me like a ton of bricks and the meaning of the frame's story suddenly sinks in. Vaughn gave that to me because...he thinks I am his true love and intends to marry me someday?  
  
I shake my head, drawing a strange look from Aunt Trish.  
  
Impossible. Right? I mean, I think there's definitely an attraction between us and he may want something more, as I do, but such deep feelings...Impossible.  
  
Right?  
  
* * * *  
  
Hours later, as Aunt Trish and I relax in front of the TV, we hear the front door swing open. I turn my head in the direction of the door and my eyes land on Vaughn. He smiles at me.  
  
He looks different to me now somehow. It's like I am seeing parts of him for the very first time.  
  
I smile back. "Hey."  
  
"Hey," he returns, as he comes to sit down next to me on the couch, careful to situate himself a fair distance away.  
  
He turns to me, "So you are a free woman, as is my aunt. All of the checks have been completed and everything looks fine."  
  
"That was quick."  
  
"Yeah, it went faster than Devlin thought it would."  
  
I nod, my thoughts now moving to what I've just learned. I am just about to ask if I can speak with him in the kitchen privately, when Aunt Trish stands up and waves a hand in disgust at the television.  
  
"Ugh, I can't stand that Vanna White. She gets paid how much to dress up and touch a little square to make it glow? I could do that...I'd cost less and look damn better doing it!"  
  
Vaughn and I laugh, as she stomps out of the room. We exchange amused glances before lapsing into silence.  
  
After a few moments, I turn to him and speak in as nonchalant, I- just-thought-of-this manner as I can manage. "So, I was just thinking today that I never really thanked you for that Christmas gift you gave me."  
  
Subtle. I think.  
  
His brow creases and a hint of curious suspicion rises up in his eyes.  
  
"Oh, that's okay. It was implied."  
  
I nod. "Where did you say you got that again?"  
  
He moves his eyes from mine, "An antique shop."  
  
"Right, right. And what was that shop called?"  
  
By now, he must know something is up because his eyes are focused squarely on his hands.  
  
"Uh...'Antiques...and Things."  
  
I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Although I should probably be a little peeved at the fact that he lied to me, something he never does, I really can't be. How can I after learning what that frame represents?...After learning how he really feels about me?  
  
I smile and nod, "Catchy name. And where is that located exactly?"  
  
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "L.A."  
  
"Where in-..."  
  
He cuts me off before I can finish my question, "Okay, Sydney, what is this all about?"  
  
I shrug my shoulders and put on my best innocent face, "What do you mean? I'm just trying to learn more about the gift you gave me."  
  
He shakes his head and places a hand to his forehead, his face reddening in embarrassment. "She told you, didn't she? I knew I shouldn't have left you alone with her for more than a few minutes."  
  
"She's a very honest woman, something I find refreshing."  
  
His head is bent and he won't meet my eyes. "You're upset that I lied to you."  
  
I shake my head, my voice emerging softly, "No, I'm not. Maybe I should be, but I'm not. I'm just wondering why you didn't tell me the truth."  
  
His head snaps up and he finally meets my gaze. "You're kidding, right? What exactly should I have said? I can't stop thinking about you, I'm in love with you, I can't imagine being with anyone else but you. Which one, exactly, would not have been totally and completely inappropriate?"  
  
My hearts catches in my chest at his inadvertent confession. I knew he had these feelings from what Aunt Trish said about the frame, but hearing him actually say the words still stuns me.  
  
He seems to have stunned himself a bit too, since he can't seem to stop wiping furiously at his brow. I don't think he meant to say so much, so quickly, but it seems like he couldn't help himself. I guess he's been bottling it all up inside for so long that maybe he just couldn't take it anymore.  
  
He swallows hard and looks me in the eye. "I...I guess I just wanted to give you something that expressed my feelings without you knowing that it did. I know that sounds strange, but it helped me deal with the fact that we couldn't be together...That we can't be together. It helped me knowing that you had that with you; it was like I was doing something to lessen the burden of carrying around those feelings and not being able to express them."  
  
My voice emerges softly, "Your aunt says you're supposed to give that to your 'true love' as a sign of your intent to marry her someday."  
  
His smile is laced with a hint of humiliation, "She told you everything, didn't she?"  
  
I nod. He sighs and shakes his head, "Yeah, that's what the frame is supposed to mean, as corny as it sounds. It-..."  
  
"It doesn't sound corny," I interject quietly. "I think it's beautiful."  
  
His eyes scan my face and for a moment I think he's going to kiss me. But the moment passes and he removes his eyes.  
  
His voice is soft as he continues, his eyes purposely focused on the lamp behind me, "I don't want to freak you out with declarations of 'true love' and wanting to marry you, Sydney. And, believe me, this is not exactly how I imagined telling you all this." He pauses and allows himself a nervous chuckle. "Yes, that's how I feel, but I know nothing can come from it...Not for a long time, at least. And, for that matter, I can't presume that your feelings are even in the same ballpark as mine, but-..."  
  
"They are," I say in a voice barely above a whisper.  
  
His eyes move to mine and I swear I see something sparkle in them.  
  
He swallows hard and croaks, "They are?"  
  
I nod and watch as a slow smile spreads across his lips.  
  
Before I even know what's happening, our bodies are moving closer to one another. It's as if we're drawn to each other, like a moth to a flame.  
  
Our mouths are mere inches apart, as he whispers, his hot breath sweeping across my lips. "But we can't act on those feelings, right?"  
  
"Right," I respond breathlessly, before his lips meet mine.  
  
His thumbs caress my cheeks and I dig my hands into the hair at the base of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. A kiss that began as soft and tender evolves into raw and passionate, all of our long suppressed feelings spilling out.  
  
We are just about to separate due to a lack of oxygen, when a loud clapping coming from behind forces us to move apart. We both turn our heads in the direction of the clapping and laugh at what we see: Aunt Trish sitting in a chair, happily chomping on popcorn.  
  
"Bravo, bravo! Wonderful! But don't stop there! It was just getting good!"  
  
I turn to Vaughn, who face is flooded with red, although I can't be sure if it's because of what we were just doing or the current embarrassment created by his aunt.  
  
I smile at him, "How long do you think she's been there?"  
  
He allows himself a small smile, "Long enough to catch the juicy parts. My aunt never misses out on anything juicy."  
  
I laugh and shake my head. Aunt Trish walks over to the couch and stands in front of us. "So, does this mean that NOW you guys can use those secret meetings for a steamy love affair? It seems a shame to waste them the way you have been."  
  
Vaughn and I look at each other with raised eyebrows.  
  
"I think that's something we'll have to discuss later," I say.  
  
Vaughn nods his head in agreement and then smiles, as I slip my hand into his.  
  
All I know is that now that I've gotten a taste of what it's like to be with him, there's no way I can go back to being without him.  
  
Aunt Trish walks around the couch and forces her way in between us, breaking apart our linked hands and settling in nicely between us.  
  
"Who's got the remote?! 'Hollywood Squares' is on and I want to make fun of Whoopi Goldberg!"  
  
Vaughn and I laugh at Aunt Trish's antics, as we each place one of our arms on the back of the couch and reunite our hands.  
  
*********************************************THE END******************************************  
  
Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading! ~Steph 


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